


Everything

by Anuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Love, New Relationship, as in real and heartfelt love, bed talks, bit of angst, happy future times when they're both healed, implied sex, seriously i want them whole and happy and together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two days spent inside a hotel room with little or no clothes on, Skye discovers something unexpected about Ward. And she needs to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is my reaction to the finale, I guess. Before I get onto angstier themes (I have enough of that in store, no worries), my attention was caught by that not-so-nice comment about Ward _never being on top_ , which made me wonder if he was/is that drilled to be submissive to anyone who takes the lead. And then I decided he deserves some fluff and nice things.

Skye doesn't think much when she grabs the front of ward's shirt and pulls – she doesn't think at all – and they happily tumble onto bed. He starts to kiss her and she tugs at his shirt to get it off him. He cooperates, dutifully, after which he's above her, hands planted on bed, framing her face. 

She grins up at him stupidly and stares at his eyes. They change color, like all the time, and she can even pick up his moods based on the whole thing... and that's when he looks at her confusedly and his grin falls. 

“Ward?” she says, reaching for his face when he starts removing himself from her. “Hey? What's up?”

Then he smiles, like he does when he's caught of guard and embarrassed and insecure – and she doesn't get it, because last two days have been amazing and mind blowing and she made clear in no uncertain terms how much she appreciated and enjoyed him. And everything about him. (Finally, _finally_.)

“I... uh,” he stars, sitting on his shins, wearing only his boxers, which are pristine white with narrow blue stripes (which is so much like that old Grant Ward, and she thinks, not for the first time, that all of it wasn't an act), the most _boring_ boxers she's seen. His face is flushed and his hair a complete mess, which is _not_ like old Ward. This man is softer. This man tugs at her heart even more. 

Skye smiles at the contradictions and confusion on his face. “Come back here,” she says, inviting him with her hand. He swallows. His hesitancy raises a tiny red flag. After spending two days locked up in hotel room, and spending most of that time whit little or no clothes on, this has to mean something. “Hey,” she says softly. “Something wrong?”

He pins his stare to her cotton covered stomach. “Uh, no, I just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

Skye frowns. She looks at him, those cheekbones and arms and abs, the definition of handsome, but right now he's holding himself as if he had no confidence at all. After they had sex. Repeatedly. 

And he wasn't on top. Not once, she thinks. 

She sits up, moves to kneel next to him on the bed and smiles. 

“You didn't make me feel uncomfortable,” she says. He gives her a look which reminds of an overgrown puppy. She wants to cuddle him into eternity and tell him that whatever someone told him or taught him, his mere presence isn't hurting people. That he doesn't have to be below others, figuratively or literally. That he can have wishes too. And whoever taught him all of this was a selfish jerk. (She sighs. She knows who taught him. The extent of damage still makes her wanna scream.) She strokes his jawline with her fingers instead and gives him a moment, until he turns his face into her hand. “Wanna tell you something,” she says. He turns to her and perks up just slightly. 

“What?” 

Skye goes for the tiny mischievous smile. One that always gets the big tough him in trouble. 

“You gotta come here first,” she says. He waits a heartbeat but then follows. Skye lowers herself to bed and watches how carefully he comes back to be on top, acutely careful not to crush her. Skye smiles when he settles. “Hi big guy,” she says. 

“Hi,” he's looking at her, lovestruck and almost shy. 

“I want you to be on top for this,” she says, observing his surprised reaction. She's stroking his cheek and lips and that distracts him enough, so he doesn't run away again. 

“Why?” he asks. _Oh God_ , Skye thinks. Just when all of them actually think he's okay, something new comes up, a tiny and heartbreaking thing, a detail so small that it had to be ingrained in him like breathing. But this isn't time for heartbreak. She wants him to feel good with her and feel good about himself. And she is going to give him that. 

She looks straight into his eyes and runs her hands up and down his arms. Every now and then she feels different texture, a scar that's healed better or worse. It's not something you see until you're up close. Skye doesn't think she can count them. There's no point in that anyway. She can do something better. 

“I want you to be on top so I can look up at you,” she says and shifts, slides her naked leg against his. She sees his eyes darken and his throat move. “And I can smile up at you, and do this,” she rises on her elbows enough to kiss his collarbone and her reward is a momentary tremor of those powerful arms. She hooks her arms around his neck lightly, an invitation to trust her. “And it feels so nice to have you up there,” she says, teasing and mysterious, just the way to make him curious. 

“Why is that?” he asks, half of his mouth tilting up. 

She bites her lip. She has to do this right. Absolutely right. And she _means it_ but it has to be done right. It's easy too look at his arms and chest in an appreciative way and settle her gaze back onto his face because he's so freaking _gorgeous_. 

“It makes me feel safe,” she says. “And protected,” she adds pulling him down. His forehead is against her neck now, but he's still keeping his weight off her. She strokes his neck and the hair on the back of his head. Muscles under her other hand are still tense. “Nothing bad can happen while you're here,” she says in a moment of sad reflection. Those things are past. He is a different man now, They're both different people. “And I just want to feel you,” she says. 

“I'll crush you,” he lifts his head to give her this concerned, slightly confused look. 

“I'm not fragile,” she says. “I trust you. And I need you.”

That's what does it. She feels him relaxing, easing down over her and she cups his face and kisses him. They shift a bit while they're kissing but he remains where he is and it feels amazing. It feels even better when she can touch him and he is completely at ease, making small sounds into her mouth. Then he stops kissing her and hooks a finger into her shirt. 

He grins. She gives him an enthusiastic smile. 

*

“Oh,” he says. 

“Mhmm,” she answers and kisses his sweaty shoulder. There's not a sliver of space between them, and not a bit of tension in his body. Skye sighs. He is a wonderfully warm human blanket and his weight on her (half of it, he's leaning on a leg and an arm resting on the bed) feels heavenly. “Don't move,” she says.

“I won't,” he presses his face against her cheek. She holds him. It's accepting and protective and a bit possessive and he lets her. 

“That was beautiful,” she says. Not hot or amazing or mind blowing. They've done those and she is certain they'll do it few more times before they have to leave the hotel. This time around was beautiful. He smiles against her skin. 

“You're beautiful,” he says. She smiles. If she's right, she's blushing. Which is ridiculous. Skye turns her head and shifts so she can kiss him. 

“You are too,” she says. “Thank you.”

He bites his lip and in that moment looks surprisingly vulnerable. “For what?”

She could say _great sex_ or something equally flippant and get a grin out of him and probably blow his ego through the roof. Now is not the time, though. She wants to say something else, but doesn't know how to word it properly – it happens - and he is too important and she'd hurt him enough before, just as he did her. She bears that in mind. The way he feels about himself is important to her. It comes down to trust, but she's not going to mention that. Of course he trusts her – he's completely vulnerable to every single one of her smiles. 

“Everything,” she says and kisses him. Long, slow, sloppy, and he loses himself. When they part his eyes are glassy. _That_ is beautiful. That someone who was so thoroughly broken can heal. She smiles and he smiles and her chest feels tight and so full like it's going to burst. It's what she always felt about him, but she needed time to give this a name. Calling something by a name gives it power, makes it real. 

She pulls him closer, so that her face is buried against his neck and he is everywhere and she can imagine, if just for a moment, that she can hold him like this forever. 

Because she _loves_ him. 

“Everything,” she repeats and feels him smile against her skin.


End file.
